


Dealing With Blaine

by terraclara



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraclara/pseuds/terraclara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is the new teacher at a reform school called Dalton. Blaine is a student there, and a total jerk. Mr. Hummel can't stand him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  Kurt took a deep breath as he looked up at the huge building in front of him. He really didn’t know what he had gotten himself into. After high school, he and Rachel had gone to New York, intent on finding their dreams. Rachel had discovered there were a lot of other Rachels out there, all vying for the Broadway stage. Kurt had gone to college, wanting to continue his education. When they both came to the realization that Broadway was not really that possible, he had gotten a degree in teaching. If he couldn’t live his dream, he would teach it, dammit.

  Kurt had visited his dad the summer after he graduated, saying he was there just to see him but also looking for jobs. The only school he had found available was a reform school called Dalton Academy for Troubled Boys in Westerville, Ohio. Didn’t that sound inviting?

  Kurt showed his ID to the armed guard in front of the doors. What kind of kids went here, that they needed a guy with a gun to keep watch? He climbed the steps and pushed open the doors. The place was stunning. It looked more like a Victorian mansion than a school. By the plaque near the door, Kurt guessed it used to be. He found the front office with little difficulty.

  The receptionist was a redheaded woman. She looked up when he entered, and Kurt was reminded of Emma Pillsbury, the OCD counselor at McKinley. “Hello, how may I help you?”

  “Hi, my name is Kurt Hummel, and I’m the new teacher,” He said.

  “Oh yes, Mr. Hummel. Teaching English, is that correct?” Kurt nodded in affirmation.

  “Okay then, here’s a paper to sign and a map of the school. If you’ll look, your classroom is highlighted. Oh, and your keys. This one is for the class,” She held up a small silver key, “and this one is the teacher’s lounge,” She indicated a bronze key on the ring. That’s all you need, but if you have any questions, you can ask me,” She smiled.

  “Thank you,” Kurt said, and slipped the papers into his bag after looking at the map. He left the main office as the first bell rang. He panicked momentarily before realizing he did not actually have a first period class. He double-checked his schedule. Second, third, fifth, seventh, and eighth. Not bad at all, considering first through fourth periods were on one day, and fifth through eighth on the second. Kurt believed it was an “A”-“B” schedule.

  Kurt was excited to be teaching AP level English. That had always been one of his favorite subjects, and he wanted to show as many kids as possible that reading was in fact fun. He had planned out a loose syllabus for the year, and it included reading a couple plays. If he was lucky, the students wouldn’t be averse to acting them out.

  As Kurt slowly found his way to his classroom, he began to notice students in the hallways. Many of them had eyes downcast. Some looked his way, and he almost preferred the kids who looked at the ground like it would give them the answers to the math homework they didn’t do. The stares he received were dark, and a little curious. Of course, he was barely four years older than the seniors, and he still looked a bit like one himself. His hair was a little longer than it was in high school, and slicked back loosely. He had taken to wearing reading glasses as well. Not only did they make him look more sophisticated, the thin grey frames also helped him see. That was an added bonus, Kurt supposed.

  At long last, he arrived at the door to his class. He fumbled with the lock for a split second. The thick wood swung open to reveal a standard-sized classroom, complete with oak desks in rows. Immediately, Kurt disliked it. After deliberating for a moment, he decided it was the desk arrangement. He drew up a quick diagram using a pen and paper from his bag. A nice icebreaker would be to have the boys help him change the desks around. He wanted something more open, and had opted for a semi-circle two desks wide, with the opening toward his desk and the huge picture window on the far wall. It would also allow for more reenactment space.

  As Kurt looked around the room, he marveled at how different it was from McKinley. How could a private reform school have so much money anyway? Maybe the parents of the boys who went here were rich, or something. Kurt himself could barely afford a three-room apartment ten minutes away, with noisy neighbors and air conditioning that made the whole place smell mildly of cat piss. But it was home. He straightened his tie and checked the clock. 9:45. Classes started at 9:15 and were 90 minutes, which meant Kurt had an hour to get everything set up. The suddenness of this job had required him to decorate the classroom today instead of over a weekend or after school. He got to work.

  Forty-eight minutes later, Kurt was a tad sweaty, but the room was completed. Posters from books and plays such as _Romeo and Juliet, Wicked,_ and _1984_ hung on the walls. His deep mahogany desk had a small amount of pencils and other writing utensils in a row on one side, and a stapler, tape dispenser, and pencil sharpener on the other. His desk design was on the table in front of the projector. Kurt had been fascinated by it at first. This projector was so much more high-tech than the ones at McKinley, which had a light that shone up through. The teacher would put translucent paper on top of it and a slightly blurry image would appear on the screen. These, however, had a camera in them or something, and one just set the paper or book of choice underneath the head of the projector and a crystal-clear image showed up. _So much in four years_ , Kurt thought, shaking his head. _So much, but the fundamentals are the same._

  He checked the clock, which said 10:42 on its face. Three minutes. Kurt fell into a panic, not knowing if he should sit at his desk, or stand at the door to shake hands, or enter the classroom a minute after his pupils. He settled on sitting at his desk at 10:44. His shaking hands straightened his tie once more. The bell rang. Boys began filling the classroom, sitting heavily in their desks. Kurt noted that over half the desks were empty when the final bell rang, signifying the start of class.

  “Good morning, class,” Kurt said. “My name is Mr. Hummel. Ms. Larson is unfortunately out for the rest of the year with lung cancer.”

  “Good. I hated that old smoker anyway,” A voice sounded from the back of the room. Kurt traced it to a blond boy with a lip ring.

  “And what might your name be?” Kurt asked tightly.

  “Flint,” The boy said.

  Kurt nodded once. “Flint, I would appreciate if you didn’t disrespect Ms. Larson, or any teacher for that matter, in my presence.”

  Flint scoffed. Kurt chose to ignore him. “I have a couple activities to get to know you all better. First, however, I need your help rearranging the desks. This current format is so boring. Don’t you agree?” A couple boys murmured their consent. “I drew a diagram of what I want them to look like. If you could push the-” Kurt was interrupted by the door banging open. A boy with curly black hair and tie undone stood in the doorway. When he looked at Kurt, his eyes burned into Kurt’s.

  “Excuse me, who are you?” Kurt asked, annoyed at having his first class interrupted.

  “Blaine Anderson,” He said shortly.

  “Well, Blaine, I expect you to be on time for my class, or at least come in quietly. Can you do that?”

  “Sure. What’s your name, then?” Blaine inquired rudely.

  “My name is Mr. Hummel. I am your _teacher,_ and you will not speak to me that way,” Kurt said, affronted.

  “First name?” Blaine replied, for some inexplicable reason.

  “Kurt, but you shall call me Mr. Hummel,” Kurt bit out. He was well aware of the other students watching closely. Maybe they thought of it as a test.

  “Alright then, Kurt. I’ll be sitting down now,” Blaine said, and sauntered off toward the back of the classroom. Kurt was speechless. He watched as Blaine put his feet up on top of the desk and pulled out his phone.

  “Mr. Anderson, see me after class,” Kurt said. “Now then, here is the drawing for the new desk formation. If you could arrange them like this…” He put the drawing up on the projector. Almost all his students got up and began moving the desks. All but one Blaine Anderson. _What a surprise,_ Kurt thought angrily.

  “Mr. Anderson, I expect you to help with this.” Blaine merely jerked his head once in acknowledgement. Kurt blew a strand of hair out of his face with an angry huff.

  Once the desks and been pushed into a semi-circle, Kurt leaned on the front of his desk with his legs crossed at the ankle. “Now, obviously I need to know your names, but first I’d like to talk about the syllabus for this year. Since it’s already October, we will be reading _Lord of the Flies_ and _The Scarlet Letter._ Second semester, I have something a little different planned. We’re going to start off with reading _Romeo and Juliet_ as a play, which means I will be assigning parts.” Kurt was not excited to hear the few groans throughout the classroom. “It won’t be that bad. Besides, it’s a lot better than just reading it monotone. How can you _not_ act out one of the most famous plays ever written? Anyway, after _Romeo_ we’ll be reading the screenplay for _Wicked._ It isn’t the most challenging text, but I want you all to understand that even simply written things can be entertaining as well,” Kurt slowly grew more animated as he spoke. “Some of you may be aware that this is a musical. That means we will be singing. I don’t care how good your voice is,” He said quickly as most of the boys protested. He noticed Blaine was still texting or playing games or whatever on his phone. “But I want you all to try your hardest. Now, however, I need to know your names. We’ll go in a circle –see, this format is better- and I want you to tell me your first name and something interesting about you. I’ll go first,” Kurt volunteered. “My name is Kurt Hummel, and I went to New York City to be on Broadway. Obviously it didn’t work out that way,” Kurt said, smiling a little. “Your name?” He asked a brunet on his far right.

  “I’m James, and um, my sister is famous.”

  “Very good, but what is something interesting about _you_?” Kurt asked.

  “I… I’m only 16,” He replied. “I skipped a year.” Kurt nodded his approval.

  A boy with eyeliner and black clothing grumbled out his information. “Kyle. My old principal thought I was a vampire.” Kurt barely suppressed a giggle as he was reminded of Tina.

  “I’m Andrew,” A blond said from next to Kyle. “I didn’t actually do anything bad on purpose. I was blackmailed,” He said brightly. Kurt’s gaydar went off. He nodded.

  “I’m Wes, and I’m a supergenius,” An Asian boy grinned. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

  “No he’s not, he just says that because he’s Asian,” An African-American student said from next to him. “And I’m David, by the way.”

  Kurt looked surprised when the boy on the other side of Blaine spoke, effectively skipping him. “Excuse me, but we missed Mr. Anderson,” Kurt said. Blaine rolled his eyes.

  “Blaine. I’m a fucking sex symbol in this school,” He said, not even looking up from his phone. Kurt was speechless.

  “Okay, Thad, is it?”

X~X

  Kurt thought it was amazing what one could learn in an hour and a half. But of course, now he had to talk to Blaine, who was still sitting in his desk. Kurt felt his anger flare up.

  “Mr. Anderson, what are you trying to pull? Are you proving that you’re too badass to listen to the teacher, or is it just because I’m new?” Blaine didn’t answer. “Mr. Anderson, I am talking to you! Put your phone away,” Kurt practically growled. Blaine looked up again. He wore a skeptical expression, and one eyebrow was pulled up on his forehead.

  “Can I go?”

  Kurt spluttered. “ _No_ , you may not! As the teacher, I demand you respect me!” He said angrily. He stalked up to Blaine’s desk, resting his fists on it. He looked at Blaine with a tight jaw, seeing that he looked totally unaffected. “I can have you thrown from this class, Mr. Anderson, unless you change your attitude,” Kurt growled.

  “Interesting,” Blaine said.

  “What?” Kurt faltered. He had expected anything but that.

  “Nothing, Kurt.”

  Kurt nearly saw red. “Blaine Anderson, you will call me Mr. Hummel or you will never see this classroom again!” He shouted.

  “Calm down,” Blaine said. “You’re not very attractive when your face is all red.”

  “ _What?_ ” Kurt gasped. “Mr. Anderson! That is hardly an appropriate thing to say to your teacher!” He said, but his steam was escaping.

  “Well, _Mr. Hummel_ , what is the correct thing to say?” Blaine asked coolly.

  “You shouldn’t be saying anything like that!” His fists tightened on Blaine’s desk. He was leaned over the wood, a foot from Blaine’s face. Blaine was reclined in his seat, still wearing that amused-raised-eyebrow look. He reached up, patted Kurt’s cheek, and left, taking advantage of Kurt’s stunned reaction to walk out the door.

  “Mr. Anderson!” By the time Kurt had recovered, it was too late.

  The rest of Kurt’s classes went absolutely fantastically, compared to second period. At long last, he trudged to his car. He crossed his fingers it would start, as usual, and smiled when it did. He drove to his apartment and exhaustedly slipped off his tie and jacket, climbing into his bed for a nap. When he awoke, it was seven at night. He warmed up some leftover pizza he didn’t want, ate it while watching Project Runway, and then decided just to go to bed. By the time he was actually between the sheets it was just past eleven. _I really am an old man now. Going to bed at eleven? For shame_ , he thought, sighing. But nevertheless, when he closed his eyes, he was gone.

  When Kurt woke up in the morning, he forgot where he was for a moment. He had only rented this apartment a week and a half ago, and he still wasn’t used to it, really. He yawned and trudged to his kitchenette, making a pot of coffee with bleary, sleep-blurred eyes. After he had had one cup of coffee, black, and a bowl of cereal with an orange he got into the shower, feeling decidedly more awake than twenty minutes prior. The hot water soothed his slight nerves at having another day of meeting students. He didn’t know if he could remember everyone’s names. Luckily, like his second period, his third had a very small number of students. While second had 14, third had only 13. Kurt wondered why they didn’t just combine the classes, but he found out from another teacher that all the classes were that small because anything larger than 15 was considered “too large to handle properly”. He had three more classes today. Luckily, it seemed like most of the boys were on their best behavior, trying to get out and far away from Dalton as soon as possible.

  And then there was Blaine.

  Kurt really didn’t know what to do with him. He was just _so_ disrespectful, and Kurt had nowhere near enough teaching experience to know how to handle him. _There’s a thought,_ his brain supplied helpfully. _What, no! He’s a student, and he’s obnoxious. It’s just his eyes. Wait, what?_ Kurt groaned and rubbed at his eyes, turning off the water. He just thought he was attracted to Blaine because his emotions were mixed up. That’s all.

  Kurt chose a simple shirt-vest-jeans-scarf combo for that day after the slacks, dress shirt and tie from yesterday. Then he brushed his hair carefully and drove to work. He had no desire to socialize, and got to his room eight minutes before the first bell rang.

  When Kurt woke up the following morning, it was with a sick slithering in his stomach. It took a moment before he realized why. Second period. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes, hitting his alarm.

  He decided on super-tight dark wash jeans and a slim ocean blue button-down that brought out his eyes. Not that he needed to. Besides, he was the adult. Right?

  He arrived ten minutes before first period ended. He sorted the papers on his desk, not noticing someone slip through the door. Thus, he jumped violently when a throat was cleared right in front of him.

  And of course it would be Blaine. “Yes, Mr. Anderson?” Kurt asked coolly.

  “Can you do me a favor?” Blaine said, with an odd roughness to his tone.

  “It depends on what it is, doesn’t it?” Kurt replied, eyebrow raised.

  “Can you take off your shirt?”

  “ _What?_ ” Kurt was stunned. The _nerve_ of this kid.

  “No, no, I just want to see if you’re pasty everywhere,” Blaine smirked.

  “Get out of my classroom,” Kurt said through clenched teeth, standing from his chair. He felt suitably safe with the desk between them. A student wouldn’t dare attack a teacher, though, would he? His unspoken question was answered as a hand shot out and wrapped itself in his collar.

  “No.”

  “Mr. Anderson! Let go of me _right now!_ ” Kurt shouted, startled. A quick glance to the door revealed the lock turned in the handle.

  “ _Do it_ ,” Blaine growled, and pulled his free arm back like he would punch Kurt, who was pressing up against the desk, pulled toward Blaine. Kurt was trembling as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, starting from the bottom. Blaine’s hand released him so he could undo the top button. Kurt had tears in his eyes, terrified as to what Blaine would do.

  But he merely trailed a finger down the sliver of exposed skin, stopping a centimeter from the waistband of Kurt’s jeans.

  “Mister Hummel,” He said, almost mockingly, “you give in too easily. You won’t last at this school if you do everything your students tell you to,” He smirked.

  “You were- punch-” Kurt was still shocked by what had happened. Four years ago, he was forced to be as tough as any of the guys here (okay, maybe not any, but certainly a few), but college at NYU had softened him up. He hadn’t needed to be constantly alert for slushies, or dumpster tosses, or a jock to shove him into lockers.

  “Like I would actually punch you, and mess up that pretty face of yours,” Blaine leered. “Now do up your shirt, your class is waiting.” Kurt took a glance at the clock, panicking when he realized he was two minutes over the start of class. As Blaine took a seat in the back of the class, Kurt flew to fix his shirt and the pencils that had been knocked askew. He opened the door to find his class waiting impatiently outside. They all gave him looks when they realized Blaine was in there, and that the door was locked.

  The first half of class went perfectly, Blaine didn’t speak, the other boys paid attention and worked diligently.

  Then there was that circle activity Kurt had planned to discuss the book they were about to begin reading, _1984_. Kurt joined the group, obviously, and of course Blaine stood next to him. A boy named Thad was on Kurt’s other side. Thad was tall, with dark brown hair and a slightly pointed face.

  “We’re going to go around the circle and say one thing you think will happen in _1984_ based on what you know about it,” Kurt announced. “Thad, will you go first?”

  The boy nodded and spoke. “I think it’s a utopian-dystopian society.” Kurt smiled his approval. The circle went like this until they reached Blaine.

  “I think the main character, Winston, will rebel against Big Brother and keep a diary, and then fuck this girl and do some other shit,” He said, examining his nails.

  “Language! And Mr. Anderson, have you read this book before?” Kurt asked, trying to stay calm and professional.

  “Eighth grade. It’s a shitty book.”

  As Kurt took a slow breath through his nose, he realized what Blaine was doing. Trying to rile him up by using expletives and very nearly spoiling the first half of the book.

  “Mr. Anderson, please see me after class,” Kurt said slowly, dangerously calmly. Blaine smirked.

  The bell rang forty-eight minutes later. A certain feeling of déjà vu sunk into Kurt’s esophagus as he watched everyone but Blaine leave the classroom. As the last boy exited, Kurt went over and closed the door.

  “Mr. Anderson-” Kurt started.

  “Stop calling me that,” Blaine interjected.

  Kurt was startled. “That’s your name, is it not?” He rested his hands on his desk, gazing at Blaine, who was in the back.

  “My last name. You call everyone else by their first name, but not me. Why?”

  “You- but- you haven’t earned that right,” Kurt said firmly.

  “Then figure out some other name. Mr. Anderson is my dad,” Blaine said. Kurt noticed a certain animosity when he said “dad”. His anger melted a little.

  “Blaine?” He asked gently. “What did your dad do to you?” He neared Blaine, standing next to his desk, effectively pinning him into the chair, which was bolted to the desk.

  Blaine growled. “Screw you,” He said, standing suddenly and sending Kurt off-balance, for he was in no way expecting it. He tipped backward, flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright, to no avail. He closed his eyes, anticipating the impact of the floor, but instead receiving arms wrapped tightly around his waist. When his eyes shot open in surprise, he realized it was Blaine who caught him ( _obviously_ , his brain told him. _He’s the only other one in the room_ ). Of course, that didn’t prepare him for the deep brown eyes inches from his own stun-widened ones.  Neither moved. _He’s a minor, Blaine’s a minor, he’s_ -

  “I’m eighteen,” Blaine broke the silence.

  “You’re my student,” Kurt countered.

  “No one needs to know.”

  “It’s wrong,” Kurt said.

  “Then why aren’t you moving?” Blaine smirked. Kurt cleared his throat and moved to separate himself from Blaine. But he seemed to be stuck. _Oh._ Blaine’s hands pressed into the small of his back. He was taller than his student by two inches, but Blaine was apparently stronger.

  Blaine tucked his head into the nook of Kurt’s neck. “Lock the door,” He breathed into his teacher’s ear. His hands released Kurt, who stumbled to the door, slightly dazed. He looked down to see his hand on the knob. He could easily open it and leave, or force Blaine to. He opened it.

  “What are you doing?” Blaine demanded angrily.

  “Leave,” Kurt said quietly.

  Blaine scoffed, lifting his bag over one shoulder. When he exited through the door, an elbow was pushed into Kurt’s stomach, though on purpose or accident, Kurt didn’t know.

  “You’re just scared,” Blaine growled.

  Kurt watched him walk down the hall. “Blaine!” He said, when the boy was almost too far, “Meet me after class,” He finished. He didn’t see Blaine’s expression, but the change in his gait made Kurt smile. And then frown and hit his head with the palms of his hands.

  “I must be insane! Completely mental!” He said aloud.

  The other two periods that day passed too quickly. When the bell rang signifying the end of the school day, Kurt startled from the papers he had been grading to take his mind off that bell approaching. Almost three minutes later, his classroom door opened. Blaine strutted in, wearing something that was definitely not his uniform. A leather jacket hung off his body, open, and a tight white t-shirt clung to his chest. He had on dark blue jeans that were just ridiculously tight.

  “Blaine, where is your uniform?” Kurt asked quietly.

  “I changed,” He shrugged simply.

  “Oh,” Was all Kurt could manage. His eyes zeroed in on Blaine’s fingers turning the lock. Before he could even compute it, Blaine had materialized in front of him and there were fingers in his hair and under his shirt and lips on his and pelvises lined up and thirsty need consumed them both.

  Blaine’s mouth was warm and tasted like cinnamon, Kurt noted. Their tongues battled and Blaine won out. _Oh, so this is how it’s gonna go_ , Kurt thought with a smile against Blaine’s mouth. Kurt could feel Blaine’s youth digging into his leg. He was only half hard, himself. Blaine tore off Kurt’s shirt at the same time Kurt realized it was unbuttoned. He looked down as Blaine took in the new expanse of skin just revealed. He felt his cheeks redden from the gaze his own student was giving him. His eyes widened as a finger pulled his chin up. Blaine looked him in the eyes.

  “You are so fucking sexy, you know that?” He said. The room was silent for a moment. Then, like some unspoken agreement, they flew at each other, stumbling to Kurt’s desk, kissing, biting, touching. Blaine was divested of his jacket and skin-tight shirt, and Kurt ran his trembling hands over Blaine’s lightly toned stomach. He was surprised to find a light dusting of hair on Blaine’s chest and in a trail down his lower abdomen. His lips left Blaine’s and trailed down his chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth but soon continuing on. He pressed his mouth into an open kiss just above Blaine’s waistband. Blaine leaned back on the desk, bracing himself with his hands. Kurt’s hands curled around the top of Blaine’s pants and pulled down. The friction caused Blaine to cry out.

  “Kurt!”

  Kurt groaned, his face inches from Blaine’s erection. “Call me Mr. Hummel,” he said.

  “M-mister Hu-Hummel…” Blaine gasped as Kurt’s mouth sank down over his cock.

  “Oh god Kurt-” Kurt chuckled around Blaine’s erection, causing his student to yell out. He experimentally swirled his tongue around the tip and Blaine jerked his hips forward. Kurt pushed him back with one hand and pulled off Blaine’s cock.

  “Now, now, it wouldn’t do to get overexcited, would it?” Kurt smirked.

  Blaine growled and shoved his hips toward Kurt’s face. Kurt stood.

  “What the fuc-” Kurt silenced him with a hard kiss.

  “I’m your teacher. Do what I say,” He grinned against Blaine’s lips. Blaine just groaned. Kurt ducked his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. He pulled down his own pants and underwear, lining up his cock with Blaine’s. The first thrust was very nearly the last. Blaine’s toned body bucked into Kurt’s, and their lips were trying to meet each other but not really succeeding because of the fast pace of their bodies. Kurt wrapped a hand around both of their erections and tugged, bringing moans from both parties.

  “Kurt, I’m-” Blaine breathed against Kurt’s collarbone.

  “Come,” Kurt commanded, and Blaine did, though whether it was just good timing was unknown. The sight of Blaine shouting his orgasm did it for Kurt, and his stomach clenched white-hot. He growled Blaine’s name as his come mixed with Blaine’s. They both stood there, Blaine more or less seated on Kurt’s desk, for multiple moments. Kurt silently hoped Blaine wouldn’t ruin the moment, but seeing as he was a teenage boy in a reform school, it wasn’t likely.

  “Shit,” He said, and Kurt sighed quietly, moving away from Blaine to pull his pants back up and find his shirt.

  “This is a very bad idea. A very, very bad idea! What was I _thinking_?” Kurt groaned, pacing once his pants were secure around his waist.

  “For the record, you are much better at that than I expected,” Blaine commented, making no move to pull his pants up.

  “Than you _expected_? Did you plan this?” Kurt shouted, tearing at his hair.

  Blaine got up and wrapped his arms around Kurt, who was slightly startled at the only mildly kind thing Blaine had ever done in his presence. “Calm the fuck down, Mr. Hummel,” He said against Kurt’s ear. Kurt groaned.

  “You can’t call me that after what we just did,” He said.

  Blaine chuckled. “Yeah, that was pretty hot,” He agreed.

  A knock sounded at the door. Kurt flew away from Blaine, looking for his shirt. “Just a minute!” He called, and the knocking stopped. “Get dressed,” He hissed at Blaine, who grabbed his clothes and disappeared behind Kurt’s desk. Kurt hurriedly tried to fix his hair and straighten his shirt. When he unlocked and opened the door, he was met with the face of the headmaster of the school, John Apelton.

  “Hello, sir,” Kurt said, startled by the appearance of the man he had only seen once during his job interview.

  “Please, call me John. We are colleagues, now, after all,” He smiled warmly. “May I come in?”

  “Of course, of course,” Kurt stepped back to allow John to enter. He stood awkwardly as John slid into one of the desks.

  “You may sit, Kurt,” He said, smiling. Kurt sat at his desk, slightly flustered. He had forgotten Blaine was hiding under it, and nearly shouted when a hand appeared on his thigh. He shoved it off, but it came back.

  John seemed unaware of his struggle. “I just came by to see how you were doing. I trust the students have been good to you?”

  The hand undid his pants and slid them down his thighs. “They have. It seems that most of them are very intelligent, and they are very well behaved in class.” Kurt thought he did a good job of speaking normally, considering the hot air currently being breathed on his growing erection.

  “Good,” John said. “I know you have Blaine Anderson in your class. How is he?”

  A tongue connected with the tip of Kurt’s cock, and he tried to cover his gasp with a cough. “Why do you ask?” He inquired politely.

  “He’s one of our main problem students. He is rude to teachers, his classmates, and his parole officer. We don’t know why, really. But he has top marks in all his classes, despite this. He’s an anomaly, that’s for sure,” John explained.

  Kurt nodded through the thick haze of lust threatening to overcome him. “He was problematic on the first day, but he seems to have calmed down.” Then Blaine took him all the way. Kurt jolted his hips forward.

  “Are you alright?” John questioned, narrowing his eyes slightly.

  “Fine,” Kurt choked out. “Muscle spasm.”

  John nodded, looking slightly appeased. Blaine somehow managed to get a finger behind Kurt and traced his hole. His teeth clenched with the effort of not shouting out.

  “Well, I believe that’s all. I’ll just be going now,” John said slowly, standing. Kurt nodded.

  “Nice speaking with you. Take care,” he said, and John walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  “What the fuck was that?” Kurt shouted at Blaine, who looked up at him with a grin.

  “I wanted to see you squirm,” He said, and proceeded to suck on the head of Kurt’s cock, ending all conversation as Kurt’s head fell back and he wrapped his hands in Blaine’s curly hair.

  “ _Blaine_ ,” He murmured. Blaine hummed around his cock. Kurt shouted. “I’m going to-”

  Blaine swallowed. He tucked Kurt back into his pants in a surprisingly touching gesture, and climbed out from under the desk, preferring to sit on top of it and grin at Kurt, who was still a little out of it. He pulled his own cock out of his pants and started jerking himself off. Kurt made a noise and wrapped a hand around Blaine’s cock. Blaine braced himself with both hands and arched his back. Kurt’s only warning was a low shout, and then Blaine’s come was on his stomach and Kurt’s hand. Blaine groaned.

  “Well, Mr. Hummel, since I am now an hour late for Warblers practice, I should go,” Blaine said.

  Kurt blinked. “You’re in the Warblers?”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, I’m the soloist. And you could do to not make assumptions. Just because I’m badass doesn’t mean I can’t fucking sing.”

  Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Then do it,” He said. He had a strange feeling that Blaine was lying.

  Blaine rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.

_“You’re so delicious._  
You’re so soft.  
Sweet on the tip of my tongue.  
You taste like sunlight  
and strawberry bubblegum.

_“You bite my lip._  
You spike my blood.  
You make my heart beat  
Faster.

  “Satisfied?” Blaine asked, sounding bored. Kurt was sure his jaw was somewhere around his knees.

  “You- you can-”

  “-Sing really fucking well? I know,” Blaine smirked. “One more thing I can do better than you.”

  Kurt grinned. Blaine didn’t know what he had gotten himself in to.

_“It’s time to try_  
Defying gravity.  
I think I’ll try  
Defying gravity  
And you won’t bring me down!”

  Kurt looked expectantly at Blaine, who had the strangest look on his face. He did not anticipate the sudden hard press of lips against his own, but he welcomed them. Blaine broke away shortly after, but stayed a hair from Kurt.

  “I want to make you scream my name in that high F,” he grinned.

  Kurt just kissed him again.


	2. Chapter 2

  Kurt straightened his tie nervously. He knew what he was about to do was very dangerous, very stupid, and very illegal. He honked his car horn. Seconds later, Blaine strolled out of the gorgeous house and climbed into his car.

  "'Sup, Mr. Hummel?" He grinned. "Where are we going?"

  Kurt smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes through the anxiousness in them. "You'll see," He said, and pulled the car out of brake. Five minutes later found them on the highway, Kurt's fingers threatening to snap the wheel in half. Blaine noticed.

  "Kurt, calm the fuck down. We won't get caught. Besides," He smirked, "Wherever we're going would be a great place to relieve tension, don't you think?" Kurt rolled his eyes as Blaine practically growled. He did not, however, expect the hand that fell to his upper thigh.

  "Blaine!" Kurt said. "I've trying to drive. Do you want to get us both killed?"

  Blaine chuckled. "I have that much impact on you, huh?" The hand moved slowly on top of Kurt's growing erection, massaging lightly and distracting Kurt from the road long enough that when he looked back, a semi that was not there before was now only ten feet in front of them. Kurt slammed on the brakes, changed lanes, and swore profusely, all within 30 seconds.

  "Okay, fine, I'll stop," Blaine said, sounding a little disappointed.

  The rest of the car ride was spent in a comfortable silence. When they arrived at their destination, Kurt grinned. It had come as a slight shock to him to have found out that _RENT_ was playing at the last operational drive-in movie theater in Westerville. He glanced at Blaine, who was playing nonchalant. Kurt knew him well enough to see his excitement. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, Blaine trailing behind. Kurt went to the trunk and lifted a big blanket out, going back around to the front and spreading it on the hood. He climbed up and patted the space next to him. Blaine jumped up.

  “Isn’t this nice?” Kurt asked quietly.

  “Yeah, sure. You know I’d prefer to just go back to your apartment and have a fuck, right?” Blaine said, looking sideways at Kurt, who sighed.

  “We’ve been doing that for a month now. I figured we might as well go on a date amidst the fucking.”

  Blaine relented.

  “Do you want to go get popcorn?” Kurt asked.

  Blaine shrugged. “Might as well. You have money?”

  Kurt looked at him. “I live in a one-bedroom apartment. You live in a huge two-story house. Who should pay for popcorn?”

  Blaine grumbled something that sounded like “You brought me on this fucking date. Sex is free”, but he got up anyway and left toward the concession stand just out of sight.

  When the movie had been playing ten minutes, Kurt began to get worried, seeing as Blaine should not have been gone that long. There were only two or three other cars there. Kurt got up and walked over to the small stand. What he saw made him gasp.

  Blaine was on the ground, on top of some blond guy with tattoos, punching him repeatedly. As Kurt panicked over what to do, another guy came up from behind Blaine, grabbing him by the shoulders and ripping him off the blond. He spun Blaine around and punched him in the gut. Blaine swung at his jaw – and would have connected if the blond hadn’t grabbed his arm and twisted it behind him. The second man hit Blaine hard across the face, and Kurt regained his voice.

  “Hey!” He shouted, and all three looked at him. “What do you think you’re doing?!” He stepped toward them, missing the warning in Blaine’s eyes.

  “Stay out of this, ladyboy,” the blond sneered.

  “No,” Kurt said. “Leave him alone.”

  The two men exchanged glances and dropped Blaine, instead walking at Kurt. _Oh, dear_ , he thought.

  “Kurt, run!” Blaine’s voice rang out, and the blond turned back.

  “You know this fag?” He said, with disgust heavy in his voice. Blaine said nothing, staying on the ground where he had fallen when the men released him. Blood streamed thick from his nose and lip, and his jaw was already bruising. However, the blond seemed to be in worse shape, and that comforted Kurt a little. At least, until they centered their attention on him again. For every step they took toward him, he took one backward. He cursed silently when his back hit the wall of the concessions stand. The men continued to advance on him, and he closed his eyes, anticipating the first blow. It never came. He opened his eyes to see Blaine punching the brunet, while the blond tried to pry him off.

  “Go!” Blaine shouted. Kurt steeled his nerves and hooked his hands around the brunet’s shoulders, yanking him backward.

  “Come _on,_ Blaine!” Kurt yelled, and while the pair was disoriented, he grabbed Blaine’s hand and ran to the car, stuffing the blanket in the backseat and revving the engine. They drove out of the lot at top speed. Luckily, Kurt’s apartment was a mere ten minutes away, and they got there in six. Kurt pulled Blaine into his bathroom and started the sink running, grabbing an old washcloth from the cabinet above the toilet.

  “Come here,” Kurt said gently, and Blaine complied. Kurt ran the cloth under the water and dabbed softly at Blaine’s face, cleaning up the blood. His nose had stopped bleeding, but his previously white shirt was now bright red. Kurt gestured at him to take it off. He ran some water in the bathtub and dropped it in. Immediately, the water turned slightly pink.

  “Blaine? Who were they?” Kurt asked softly.

  “No one,” Blaine answered shortly.

  “Blaine-” Kurt started.

  “Do you think I was sent to Dalton for a bad attitude? Those guys were the reason. I got into a fight, okay? My old school wasn’t great. They went there, and they constantly-” Blaine stopped short. “Why am I telling you this?”

  Kurt looked at him. “Because you need to tell someone.”

  He sighed. “They beat me up all the time for being gay. So I beat them back. But _my_ dad isn’t a lawyer,” He said bitterly.

  “Blaine, I’m really sorry,” Kurt said.

  “Don’t be. It’s not a big deal.”

  “So, if you were sent to Dalton through no fault of your own, then why do you act like you do?” Kurt inquired.

  Blaine’s eyes hardened. “I need to go,” He said, and exited the bathroom, leaving Kurt with the washcloth swinging in the air.

  “Blaine-” He started, and then realized Blaine had already left the apartment. Kurt sighed, defeated, and then remembered Blaine had no car to get him home. So why was there an engine starting up outside? No- he _couldn’t._ Kurt ran down the flight of stairs to the ground level, pushing through the double doors and stopping short. His car was gone. He patted his legs for his keys and found them in his front left pocket. _How did Blaine hotwire a car that quickly?_

  Kurt was annoyed, then frustrated, then livid. How _dare_ Blaine steal his car? How was he going to get to work tomorrow? He growled and went back to his apartment to look up bus schedules.

  He sat down on the couch and grabbed his laptop, turning it on. About two minutes in, his eyes began to get heavy…

_He was in a park somewhere, and Blaine was there. They were holding hands, they were happy. But then, out of nowhere, men advanced on them, from everywhere, all at once. There had to have been hundreds. They all had the same sneering, disgusted face. Blaine got up to protect him, and the men were on him like piranhas. Kurt screamed._

  The door woke him up. A _knock knock knock_ repeated in his ears, and he lifted himself blearily from the couch. He was startled to see Blaine when he opened the door.

  “What do you want?” He hissed, still upset from his dream and angry at Blaine.

  “I brought your car back,” he said quietly. “And I, um, I wanted to tell you something.”

  Kurt was really in no mood for storytime, but he figured that Blaine _did_ give his car back. “Come in,” he said gruffly.

  Blaine walked in a little awkwardly, pulling off his leather jacket and sitting on the couch heavily. “I’m gay,” he proclaimed.

  “I sorta figured that out from the sex we’ve been having,” Kurt said, mildly confused.

  “No, you didn’t let me finish. I’m gay, and my dad hates me for it. My mom, she’s always been kind of meek, I guess, so my father makes the rules. Anyway, when I came out to them, he basically disowned me. Don’t get me wrong, I still lived with them, but he wouldn’t talk to me or acknowledge my existence. That’s when I started hanging with the rougher kids, the ones who wore leather and smoked and kicked wiener dogs. But when they all found out I was gay, I was kicked out of their group, rather violently. I still have the scars,” he said, pulling up his shirt just enough that Kurt could see the long silver mark stretching across Blaine’s hip. “-Yeah, I know you didn’t notice it before. You’re so emotional you probably would have freaked and cried for me or something.

  “Anyway, those guys were -used to be- my best friends. Matthew and Daniel. I fucking hate them,” he finished, looking at the floor.

  Kurt felt sympathy for the poor boy in front of him. He sat down gingerly on the couch and wrapped an arm around Blaine’s shoulders. He sighed and kissed the boy’s temple. He wanted to say something but just couldn’t.

  “Aren’t you going to shower me with apologies now?” Blaine asked bitterly. “Tell me how bad you fell and how you understand? You don’t,” he said.

  “No,” Kurt said. “I’m not. And I do understand. When I was in high school, I went through a similar time. I can’t empathize with your family problems, however, as my dad was really supportive. Still is. There was this bully, David Karofsky, and he made my life a living hell. He was this huge, Neanderthal of a football player, and he was in the closet. I suppose that’s why he did it, really, because he was scared. He stole-” he cleared his throat. “He stole my first kiss, and I can never fully forgive him. We’re on good terms, now, but back then… I constantly had bruises from being slammed into lockers, and my school had this slushie machine. They used to throw them at us. So many clothes were ruined,” he said. “But that’s over, now, and as cliché as it sounds, it gets better. I went to NYU, and they’re so accepting there. I’m not dictating your life, Blaine. I’m just telling you that you don’t have to be this badass to be accepted.”

  Blaine just smiled, small, humorless. “I need to get home.”

  Kurt sighed. “I’ll take you. Next time, don’t hotwire my car, okay?”

  Blaine couldn’t help but laugh, and soon Kurt was laughing, too. “Okay,” Blaine said through deep chuckles.

xxxxx

  Kurt glanced at his lesson plans and raised his eyes to address the class. “We’re going to start reading _Romeo and Juliet_ today,” he said, smiling. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the small groans echoed around the classroom. “And that means I’ll be assigning parts today as well. I had an idea as to how I’m going to, and I want to hear your opinions on it.”

  It had been three months since he began teaching at Dalton Reform School. The incident with Blaine had happened two weeks ago, on the third of January. While he felt closer to Blaine than ever, he knew there was still so much he didn’t understand about him yet. And Blaine acted the same in class as he did on the first day, disrespectful and rude and generally ignoring every word of instruction Kurt gave.

  “I will say a character name, and the first person to raise their hand gets the part. Keep in mind there will be female roles as well as male.”

  Which is why Kurt was immensely startled when Blaine’s hand shot up for the part of Romeo. He was undeniably first, and Kurt sighed as he said Blaine had the part.

  “Juliet,” Kurt said. Nothing. These boys knew enough about Shakespeare to realize Romeo and Juliet kiss.  His heart ached as he became aware that no one wanted to even get near Blaine, let alone kiss him. After a couple moments of awkwardness, Blaine spoke.

  “You guys afraid to kiss another dude?” He said dully.

  “Yeah man, I’m not gay. Why do you want to so much? Are you a-” Kurt cut Flint off with a sharp note.

  “That is enough, Flint. You will not speak that way in my classroom.”

  Flint sneered. “Everyone’s a fag, aren’t they?” He said, already getting up to leave when Kurt sent him to the headmaster with a harsh word.

  “Does anyone want to play Juliet?” He asked again. Silence. “Fine. The role of Juliet goes to Mr. Hummel,” he said, not looking up as he noted the part on his paper.

  “Okay, Mercutio.” Four hands appeared in the air. “Mercutio to Thad.”

xxxxx

  After class, Blaine stayed. “Kurt, I-”

  “You should leave,” Kurt said softly, eyes downcast.

  “No,” Blaine said, and Kurt was reminded of the first time they were alone in this classroom, and Blaine had scared the crap out of him.

  “Blaine,” Kurt started, warningly.

  “No, listen. I want you to not play Juliet.”

  “Blaine, Juliet is kind of important. We need her,” Kurt said slowly.

  “Assign someone, or something. I can’t do that with you. I can’t tell-” He cut himself off.

  “Can’t tell me what, Blaine?” Kurt asked quietly.

  Blaine fixed him with a hard look. “I can’t tell you I love you.”

  “Blaine?” Kurt asked, startled. Of course, he liked Blaine, even if his attitude could be improved. But love?

  “I can’t act emotions like that. Especially with you. It’s just- it’s too- it’s too close for comfort,” he grimaced.

  Kurt stood slowly and circled his desk to where Blaine fidgeted. “Blaine? Are you saying you love me?”

  Blaine growled, staring hard at the floor. “Yes, okay? Yes, I fucking love you! And it kills me every day!” He pushed past Kurt, who wasn’t expecting it and lost his balance. Blaine was almost out the door when Kurt crashed against the floor next to his desk. He wasn’t hurt so much as mortified, but Blaine spun around and slid to his side, kneeling.

  “Are you alright?” He asked worriedly.

  Kurt couldn’t help but smile. “You really do love me,” he said incredulously. Blaine’s eyes hardened over again.

  “Did you fall just to get a rise out of me?” He asked darkly, going to stand. Kurt caught his hand.

  “No, no! No, Blaine. I love you, too,” he said, not knowing what else he could say. Blaine pressed his lips against Kurt’s and he was startled to see how gentle the kiss was. He didn’t have time to contemplate the fact that _yes,_ he did love Blaine, because the boy was pushing his shoulders back and lying on top of him to deepen the kiss. The carpeted flooring wasn’t really ideal, but seeing as there was no bed, it would have to do. Kurt wrapped one hand in Blaine’s messy hair and the other slid down to his lower back. Blaine’s arms braced him on either side of Kurt’s head. They kissed roughly, with lots of tongue and teeth. Blaine rutted his hips down, and Kurt ripped his mouth away to cry out. His own hips jerked up to meet Blaine’s, and Blaine groaned against Kurt’s neck. He licked and sucked at the skin there, and Kurt was glad it was January for all the scarves he would have to wear. Blaine unbuttoned Kurt’s shirt and pushed it open, leaning down and taking a nipple into his mouth, biting at it lightly. Kurt arched his back toward the gorgeous mouth.

  “Blaine…” He whispered, and Blaine shoved a hand down Kurt’s pants. He cried out, jerking his hips up. Blaine pulled out his hand and used it to flip the button. Kurt moaned when Blaine slid down his body and pulled Kurt’s pants to his thighs. He took Kurt into his mouth in one motion.

  “Oh god, Blaine!” Kurt shouted. Blaine hummed around his cock.

  All too soon, Kurt was pulling Blaine off. He dragged him up for a sloppy kiss.

  “I want to fuck you,” Blaine said against his lips.

  “Yes,” Kurt hissed. He shoved Blaine’s pants down to his thighs and grasped his cock, moving up and down until Blaine groaned that he was close.

  Blaine unbuttoned Kurt’s shirt with nimble fingers, pushing it off his shoulders. As Kurt went to undo his bowtie, Blaine growled. “Leave it,” he said, and Kurt raised an eyebrow. He stretched up to reach the top drawer of his desk, fumbling inside it before coming up with lube and a condom. Blaine snatched them out of his hand and frantically opened the lube, coating three fingers. The first finger went in with little difficulty, and the next two followed. When Blaine judged Kurt to be properly prepared, he pulled out his fingers and tore the condom package with his teeth. At that point, Kurt lost the ability to speak and just flopped back down on the floor, staring at the ceiling until Blaine’s face came into view again, slightly reddened but mostly lust-filled. He grinned as he pushed into Kurt.

  “Blaine- give me a second,” Kurt said through the tight sting. After the pain had dulled to an afterthought, Kurt nodded. Blaine pulled almost completely out, and then pushed back in all the way. Kurt shouted out, and Blaine clamped one hand over his mouth and the other around his cock.

  Before he knew it, Kurt was coming, harder than he could ever remember. Blaine came a couple seconds later, going limp and falling to the side of Kurt. Kurt turned and kissed him on the nose.

  “Love you,” he whispered.

  Blaine grinned.

 


	3. Epilogue

  “Blaine Anderson,” the announcer said, and Blaine strode across the stage, robes billowing. His mortar board was crooked to one side, and Kurt shook his head as Blaine grasped the diploma in his hands. He watched Blaine leave the stage and sit down next to Joy Andaleese.

  “Gary Andrews,” the announcer said.

  Kurt and Blaine had been waiting for this day for five months now. In mid-March, Blaine had qualified for a transfer back to public school, and while that meant they saw less of each other, Kurt was also immensely happy. Blaine seemed less-than-sure about the move, but he had managed to pick a school with no tolerance for bullying.

  “Besides,” he had said, “if they’re mean I’ll beat them up.” Kurt had looked at him until he laughed and said he was joking. Kurt wasn’t quite sure he was, though.

  He was pulled from his thoughts forty-six minutes later by a huge cheer, and he looked up to see hundreds of graduation caps hit the air. He clapped loudly along with the parents around him.

  Twenty minutes after that he finally saw Blaine, who grinned and walked toward him.

  “Who would have thought I, of all people, would graduate from a public school, on time?” He asked.

  “I would,” Kurt replied, a small smile on his face.

  “Guess what we get to do?” Blaine said, smiling mischievously up at Kurt.

  “Go home and sleep?” Kurt teased.

  “Kiss here, fuck at home,” Blaine said, whispering in Kurt’s ear. The older man’s face turned bright red, and he placed a small peck on Blaine’s lips, then hooked his hand and dragged him to the car. Not that Blaine was complaining.

 


End file.
